On a momentous anniversary for sport, it is no exaggeration to say 30 October 1974 was a date which changed our lives.

Those of us old enough to remember it can recall where we were that night 40 years ago.

Most of us still get a cold shiver down the spine when we see where the trail led.

And most of us would willingly exchange the short-term glory of the outcome for the tale's unhappy ending.

Of course, the date brings back memories of a halcyon era when major sporting events were not just another Super Sunday or another vehicle ripe for commercial exploitation.

Make no mistake, 30 October 1974 was a night to remember. Mick Channon could have had a first-half hat-trick but had to settle for opening the scoring, before two late Colin Bell goals launched Don Revie's reign as England manager with a 3-0 against Czecholsovakia.

The Rumble in the Jungle, a heavyweight boxing event 4,000 miles away in Kinshasa, Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo), was barely a ripple in the millpond compared with the market forces unleashed at Wembley that evening.

Yes, BBC commentator Harry Carpenter's exclamation when Muhammad Ali knocked out George Foreman (“Oh my God, he's won the title back at 32”) still resonates – not least because most world heavyweight champions these days can only dream of being so young.

Yes, the Rumble launched Don King's career as boxing's most formidable huckster, a tsunami of hyperbole beneath that shock of hair.

But Revie's era, which ended with a shady deal in the desert three years later, also marked the start of an insidious, creeping disease which has invaded the household budgets of almost every fan with children born since 1974.

Rumble in the jungle? That night was more like a fumble in your wallet. It was the first time England abandoned the plain white shirt and caved in to commercial opportunism, - the debut of their Admiral kit with red and blue stripes down each arm.

To all intents and purposes, it marked the dawn of the replica kit age, and we've been paying through the nose for it ever since.

In the last 40 years, England have played in no fewer than 17 different versions of white shirt – and the first 10 years only covered two Admiral designs.

So in other words, there have been 15 changes of kit in the last 30 years, with Umbro and, since 2013, Nike ringing the changes more frequently than a town hall clock.

Parents have been hard-pressed to keep up with the pinstripes, embossed deigns, V-necks, roundnecks, chevrons, buttons, zips and meaningless decorations, culminating in last summer's shameful cynicism.

England's dreadful results in Brazil were no cause for celebration, but in the two-speed replica strip market - where 'match' shirts cost £90 and a dumbed-down 'stadium' version of the same top was £30 cheaper – it served Nike right that the tournament was almost stillborn for home fans.

Before 1974, none of us went to matches wearing ill-fitting polyster replica shirts as modelled by our favourite team – because they were simply not available in the shops.

I have no specific recollections of school chums kicking a ball around the streets in Admiral's striped sleeves, but make no mistake - Revie's England marked the start of the retail monster we know today as the replica kit industry.

And before the 1970s were out, clubs would release another genie which has never returned to the bottle – shirt sponsorship.